


Thanks for nothing

by AgapantoBlu



Series: Short-fics from Agap's Schrödinger Tumblr [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mention of Canon Thanksgiving, Native!Kevin, Post-Canon, With some alcohol because these are the Foxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 13:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17002626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgapantoBlu/pseuds/AgapantoBlu
Summary: The Foxes have no thanks to give. If anything, they have thanks to get for themselves.(Featuring Native!Kevin)





	Thanks for nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Brief reference to Thanksgiving and consequently Drake, but nothing in details.

 

Kevin finds Nicky first, which is not too surprising. If anything is, it’s the half empty bottle of tequila in his hand; the tears and snot he was prepared for.

“Get drunk inside,“ he orders, but Nicky scoffs at him and gulps down another mouthful. “The rest of the team is driving here, by the way.“

“What for? Nobody’s in the mood to celebrate shit.“ Yet, Nicky scrubs an arm on his face to try and give himself some presentability. Kevin sighs and drops himself unceremoniously on the steps by his side. The house behind them is eerily quiet, has been since they got home from Eden’s last night, all hammered and wounded too deep for small talk. Neil even forgo his morning run. At a point, Kevin has left to go buy some groceries and escape the grieving air. He hadn’t dared looking for Andrew to ask for the car. Nicky scoffs again. “Fuck Thanksgiving. What do we even celebrate it for?”

“I don’t,“ Kevin snatches the bottle from Nicky’s hand. “I’m part native. I care jack shit about Thanksgiving.“

He can see the way Nicky blinks at him from the corner of his eye, even as he downs his own share of alcohol. “You came with us last year.”

“What was I supposed to do? Stay at the Tower alone? Sure, Andrew was so going to be so enthusiast about it.”

He regrets mentioning Andrew immediately, even before Nicky’s flinch. He’s the main reason none of them knows what to do with themselves, this year. Twelve months is too short a mourning to start acting like life goes on no matter what. 

“Well, that’s double shitty,“ Nicky utters. “Was it your mom? Coach never mentioned anything.“

“Mom’s mother was Irish, but she married a native, yeah,“ Kevin shrugs. “They passed even before my mom. I don’t really… I don’t know much about that. Just enough to know I don’t want to sit at a fucking table and eat Turkey while saying how thankful I am that my grandpa’s land was stolen and his tribe almost wiped out.“

“Fair enough.“ Nicky is not looking at him, just somewhere in the far off distance. Kevin wonders if he’s thinking of his parents again. He looks broken, more so than ever. Guilt has always been the ugliest look on him. “I don’t know what to tell the twins.“

“You never know what to tell them. It never stopped you before.“

“Fuck you.”

They wait for the morning to come and go. Someone stumbles into the kitchen at some point, and they listen through the open window as the fridge gets open, some cutlery hits some dishes, the sink gets open and closed, and then silence returns. The bottle passes between them until it’s finished.

They’re not happy-drunk.

Another hour or so later, the obnoxious pink of Allison’s Porsche hits them in the face. Kevin grimaces, but Nicky jumps to his feet and zooms himself into Matt’s already spread arms. Those two get along an whole lot better since they became roommates.

Dan and Renee start unloading something, but Allison stomps all the way to Kevin and he forces himself to bend his neck so he can look up at her. She’s frowning.

“How bad is it?“ she asks and he thinks about it.

“Thanksgiving is fucking shitty.“

“No joke. Get the fuck up, Day, you’re blocking off the entrance.“

Kevin considers reminding her that Andrew might be all for killing any intruder, her included, but he’s got a migraine from that stupid car body so he just stands up, sways a bit and steps aside. Allison marches in.

When Kevin follows, Andrew and Neil are on the couch. Or rather, Andrew is on the beanbag, wrapped in blankets and holding a cup of chocolate and a bottle of something strong, and Neil is sitting on the floor, close enough to his legs to let his warmth be felt but not enough to touch. They both look up and blink, not changing their expressions. Some baking show is going on in the TV. Andrew’s eyes have bags that speak of a long night.

Allison opens her purse and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. She puts it on the floor and pushes it to slide in Neil’s range, so that he picks it up and shows it to Andrew. “Happy Belated Fucking Birthday, Minyard. Choke on it, for all I care.”

Which, Kevin consider, makes no sense with the whole situation. But Dan and Renee are passing by and filling the coffee table with unhealthy snacks and alcohol and Kevin is too tired to argue. Matt and Nicky are still outside speaking, so he moves to the stairs and then up to Aaron’s room. He knocks once, then, not expecting answers, he mentions the presence of provisions and leaves it alone. If he hears the door open behind him, he doesn’t mention it.

Aaron and Katelyn are quiet and subdue behind him. They take the couch, Aaron melting in the arm-stand closer to the beanbag Andrew’s occupying, Katelyn in the middle, so Kevin takes the other side.

Renee sits besides Neil, on the floor. She and Andrew have one of those discussions of theirs made up of just long stares, then she nods and picks up a package of chips. Dan and Allison sit in front of the TV because nobody is watching it anyway. When Nicky and Matt finally step in, they take the leftover beanbag and squash themselves in it, somehow managing to fit.

Allison throws back an impressive tumbler of More Gin Than Tonic and hisses a curse. “This isn’t a Thanksgiving,” she warns everyone. “I’ve got fucking nobody to thank. This is Thanks _getting_. Since nobody else is going to, _I_ am going to thank _myself_  for putting up with all the past year’s crap and making it through another shitty twelve months, and coming up on top. Fuck everybody else. If I’m here, it’s all because of _me_ , and I should say it. Anybody else?”

Kevin thinks of the Queen on his cheek. He made that himself, for himself. He picked his own ass up from the floor one day, said fuck to the world and got his tattoo changed; he went to the press and spilled his ugly truths like a middle finger up the Master’s and Riko’s. Heck, before that, he picked himself up with a bleeding hand and got himself to his dad. He’s ought some thanking for that, and if nobody else, then he will.

He picks a shot of vodka, raises it in Allison’s direction and gulps it down. 

Fuck Thanksgiving.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr if I'm still there @agapantoblu


End file.
